


Lights

by LittleLinor



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neon Messiah spoilers, REAL SELF-INDULGENT SHIT, slight ibumamo tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: There would always be time, Chrono thought. Time to take things slowly, to learn about each other, to be careful.Until there wasn't.(Not actually a bad ending)





	Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Stride Gate just before the end of the school year, and ignored NEXT/Z aside from the Looming Threat. Shiranui is safely on Cray.

“So, are you gonna tell me what's been troubling you, or are you playing at being dark and mysterious again?”  
Ibuki hid his almost-cough behind the drink he'd come close to choking on and looked away, torn between embarrassmnent and amusement.  
“What makes you think something is troubling me?” he asked, not lying but not answering the question either.  
“Because you came to me. You're _worried_.”  
“Can't I invite you simply for the pleasure of your company?”  
Chrono rolled his eyes, a somewhat rueful smile twisting the corner of his lips.  
“I _wish_.”  
That made him pause.  
“… I'm sorry.”  
Chrono shook his head.  
“It's fine. I know it's not something you do easily. But I _have_ been the one to invite you every time, unless something was going on, so I know there's more to it.”  
He said it with absolute certainty, and maybe that was why Ibuki had wanted to see him. Maybe he'd just needed to feel Chrono's steady strength, in this world that felt increasingly unsure.  
Or maybe, part of him whispered with a feeling akin to an exasperated sigh, you just wanted to check that he was all right, from the moment you started suspecting something was off.  
“… I don't really have anything,” he admitted. “Nothing solid, at least. Just a few troubling cases that could be coincidences, except…”  
“Except it feels like something is wrong.”  
He nodded.  
“I didn't want to alarm anyone for mere suspicions… I promise that if anything solid came up, I would have kept you informed.”  
Even though technically, the (supposedly interim) Chief of the Association would have no real business discussing matters with a rankless fighter, no matter how talented. But this wasn't strictly Association business, and more importantly, it was about trust. He trusted Chrono, in the same way he would have trusted Kai or Miwa, or, strangely enough, Ren. Maybe even more.  
And besides, Chrono had his own bond to Cray, a bond different to yet as potent as psyqualia.  
“We could help you confirm or clear those suspicions, though,” Chrono said, but he was supportive, not chastising, and once more Ibuki felt the underlying tension that had been keeping all his muscles taunt and his teeth clenched relax a little. “… do you think it's related to me?”  
“I don't know.” He sighed. “All I know is that over the last few weeks, several prominent fighters have quietly stopped Vanguard, and then dropped off the scene altogether. No warning, no announcements, no last tournament party with their friends or the local branch. It's like they simply vanished, except when I looked into it more, they're still there, going on about their life, but it's as if their life with Vanguard had never existed.”  
Chrono blinked.  
“And you're the only one who noticed?”  
“I'm not sure. But because these were far apart geographically, and none of them made a messy exit… there was one case that made some mild waves because the fighter in question disappeared in the middle of a tournament. She played one day and then never showed up the next, and when they looked for her she was simply spending time with someone… it caught my attention when the information reached me, and because I thought it strange, I checked and found the other cases.”  
“So it's like their Vanguard's been erased or something?”  
“Yes. But—I haven't been able to confirm it in person yet, but it also seems that some part of them has been erased along with it. Their teammates found them meek and robotic, when they could actually talk to them, at least.”  
Chrono frowned.  
“I can see how it'd look like a coincidence but…”  
“I don't think it is, either.” He sighed. “… hearing you agree does make it clearer in my mind.”  
Chrono shot him a side smile.  
“Happy to help.”  
“… please be careful,” Ibuki said, sobering after a second of caught breath. “If someone is behind this, they haven't been going for very publicised people yet, but those affected were all strong fighters. Who were known for having a strong relationship with their avatar. If this is indeed someone's malicious actions and not a side effect of something happening on Cray, then you, Kiba and Anjou could very well be on their list.”  
“And what about you?”  
Ibuki blinked.  
“What if _you_ 're on their list?” Chrono asked again, frowning. “You're like highest on the list of 'strong fighters with a strong link to their units', you know?”  
Ibuki found his thumb nails rubbing into his hands at the unexpected praise.  
“I… I wouldn't say my bond to Messiah is anywhere near as strong as what you share with Gear Chronicle.” He swallowed, then looked back up, rebuilding his countenance. “That aside, considering their patterns until now, I'd say I'm too high profile. If something happened to me, people would definitely notice.”  
“Yeah but it'd be _too late_ ,” Chrono sighed. “I'll tell Shion and Tokoha, but _you_ keep an eye out too, you hear me?”  
“… I will,” Ibuki said with a slight smile.  
“… actually, we should probably tell Taiyou too,” Chrono mused. “Tell him to avoid being alone.”  
“Can I ask you to do that? I have little time as is…”  
And yet, he'd come here, in person, when a simple phone call would have sufficed. He knew Chrono well enough that he could trust him to listen if he told him to avoid being alone, even if he couldn't explain his reasons.  
But he had wanted… He had wanted to not feel so alone. For the world to not feel so large and both too empty and too full of people.  
He had wanted to see him.  
Chrono frowned.  
“I _thought_ you looked tired—have you been delegating at all? And when are you gonna look for someone else to take over?”  
Ibuki held back a smile. The concern was sweet. But ever since they had defeated Myoujin, there had been so much work to do with the Association…  
“I can't just drop everything into someone's lap…”  
“Sure you can. You took the job because they were all panicked and didn't know who to rely on and because you're _too nice and responsible_. It was only supposed to be for a few months!”  
“It's technically still only 'a few months'.”  
“Nine months isn't 'a few'.”  
“… it's only fair, after all the trouble I caused the Association…”  
“The Association that was _created to use fighters to power Ryuzu's summoning machines and find promising young fighters to groom._ There'd have been more than enough reason to dismantle it entirely! _You_ took it upon yourself to turn it into something clean, but it sure as hell isn't something you _owe_ them.”  
“… maybe that's true, but…”  
“But?”  
“… if the Association had existed in the way it does now, back when I was a child… if I'd had a place to go, a Branch to be welcome in… maybe my life would have been very different. The Association has dark roots, but… it offered a chance to countless young fighters. I don't want that taken away.”  
Chrono looked at him and deflated, leaning back and toying with the straw in his drink instead.  
“When you say it like that… I get you. But still, don't push yourself too hard. You're not alone, you know?”  
Ibuki smiled.  
“I know.”

A few days passed, and no news came. Despite the quiet instructions he'd given the leaders of every branch, both local and in other regions, to keep an eye out for any other sudden withdrawals from the scene, none of them reported anything.  
Chrono, as if eager to ease his worry, reported every day, with a text in the evening. Not quite in those words, but the constant contact was transparent enough that even Ibuki saw it for what it was. He mentioned his friends, too, and Ibuki knew he was keeping watch over them, however he could. In the middle of all his uncertainty, that reassurance and reliability were like a small band-aid over the worse of a wound. Not enough to keep everything from stinging, but enough that the core wasn't exposed to more hurt.  
It was after answering such a message that he first felt the slimy, hair-raising sensation of being watched.  
He had been heading home, earlier than in the past few days, as the state of his fridge had finally reached such a stage that even he couldn't ignore it anymore and would have to stop for some emergency grocery shopping. Night had fallen, but it was the early night of early spring, when the world still went about its business, its hours dictated by offices and schools rather than the light. There were still people around, although the rush had long since reached their respective homes, leaving the streets idly populated. People who went out. People, like him, who worked later than the standard office hour. Students who had been hanging out as long as they could really afford to. And at least one person who was watching him.  
Common sense would have dictated that he step into the nearest shop and call in backup. But if whoever this was was dangerous, he couldn't make himself draw them towards innocent people.  
Instead, he kept walking down the street, and stepped into a less busy area, a strange sense of déjà-vu twisting at his stomach—it felt far too similar to the night he had run into Shinonome and then Kiba.  
But the man who stepped out wasn't Shinonome. He was tall and blond, and Ibuki's spine immediately grew cold, because this man…  
This man felt the way he used to feel. Like the light in his eyes wasn't _his_.  
“We meet at last, Messiah's Vanguard,” he said, voice dripping with perverse fervour. “I have to admit, I thought you would be harder to approach. You've made my work easy.”  
Rather than try and talk to him, Ibuki took out his deck. Fight first, ask questions later. What information he could get from talking now would be useless if he lost, and if he was going to question him, he would rather do so from a position of strength.  
But the man smiled, serenely, madly.  
“Oh, did you think I came here to fight? Unfortunately, I can't have you wake Messiah's attention to this place—not yet. But you seem very tired, Chief Ibuki. Have you been working overtime, perhaps? Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?”  
He walked closer, and Ibuki froze, unsure how to deal with him—he could kick him away if he seemed physically dangerous, but doing so would attract attention—he should only do it if there was no other choice—  
“You really should rest more.”  
In the time it took him to decide, the man was already facing him, his eyes glinting with unholy light. His hand shot forward, and although Ibuki's own hand shot out on reflex and caught his wrist, the man didn't seem bothered at all. Instead, he opened his hand and fingers wide, a breath away from Ibuki's face, and murmured, almost tenderly:  
“Let your world be silenced.”

 

Chrono was halfway through cleaning duty when he felt his phone vibrate.  
He was alone in the room: his classmate had gone ahead to throw away what trash they had gathered while he focused on straightening the desks and giving their board a proper wipe. There was no harm in answering.  
The person calling, his phone informed him as he pulled it out, was Mamoru Anjou.  
“Hello? Mamoru?”  
“Chrono.”  
The tone was grave, and immediately Chrono felt the world slow, and his heart go faster.  
“… yes?”  
“Where are you right now?”  
“Still at school, I'm cleaning. Did something happen?”  
He'd seen Shion and Tokoha a mere half hour ago, and they were meant to be on their guard, surely something couldn't have happened to them in such a short time?  
On the line, Mamoru hesitated for a short second.  
“… I'm sorry to have to tell you this,” he said, voice strained with feelings of his own. “It's about Ibuki.”

On his hospital bed, Ibuki looked almost peaceful.  
He was sleeping. On the surface, nothing looked off, save for the slightly scraped bruise on his cheek—from the fall, a nurse informed him, sympathetic to his distress. He had collapsed in the middle of the street, with no sign of struggle or harm, and as far as all their medical expertise could tell, he was perfectly fine, just sleeping or hibernating maybe, his body slowed down, but no matter what anyone had tried, he wasn't waking up. He hadn't woken up since the previous evening.  
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you when we found out this morning,” Mamoru said quietly. “I didn't want to disturb you during school, and since he was stable…”  
Chrono honestly would have wanted to know, despite knowing that he would have spent the day worrying himself sick and unable to focus. But he couldn't really fault Mamoru for it.  
“It's fine. I understand.”  
What he couldn't understand was how this could happen. This was far from the disconnection from Vanguard that Ibuki had warned him about. It was as if he was disconnected from his own body.  
He'd been so sure that they wouldn't go after him, because he was too visible. Now, it seemed instead that once they felt ready for it, they had gone straight for the most critical keystone in what efforts could be made to counter this wave. And they had been sure to incapacitate him fully.  
Chrono didn't believe in the hypothesis that something on Cray was causing this. For it to happen while he was outside in the street, when he spent most of his day at the Association or at home sleeping, was too suspicious to be a coincidence. And for him to be the first one targeted in such a drastic manner…  
It didn't make sense. Not unless he _had_ been targeted.  
“I take it he told you about what he was investigating,” Mamoru said.  
Chrono nodded.  
“He wanted us to be careful… were you involved in this too?”  
“Not officially, but he did tell me about it… I was about to launch my own investigation. It seems I was too slow.”  
Chrono clenched his teeth, and reached for Ibuki's hand where it lay at his side.  
It was warm. A lightning bolt of emotion tore through his chest, and he found himself clenching his teeth tighter, rubbing his thumb along Ibuki's hand, fighting the urge to lift it and clasp it in his.  
When was the last time they had actually touched? He tried to remember, and felt his breath hitch, because the last time had been when Ibuki was in his arms, when…  
Why did he always get hurt? Why did these things keep happening?  
Why, _why_ had he been so complacent to think that his hand would always be there for him to grasp later? That he could be content with their slow, awkward progress?  
He had wanted to hold that hand so fiercely, and now…  
Now, someone was tearing him away from Chrono's grasp before he could even reach for him. Now, he was losing him _again_. Because he hadn't been close enough to him to do anything besides ask him to be careful. Because he couldn't be there to protect him.  
He was a fool.  
“… this is related to Vanguard, right?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Don't we have anyone who can look at him who's been involved in that? What about Christopher Lo?”  
“I already called him. He'll be on a plane tomorrow. Ren Suzugamori and Tetsu Shinjou should be there tomorrow too.”  
“Huh? Why them?”  
“They did participate in the research and development for the Girs Crisis project… and apparently, they've done some research on psyqualia and related phenomenon before. It might be a stretch, but…” He sighed. “I don't know where to tread here. It felt appropriate to ask whoever could have any expertise.”  
“… yeah.”  
“I also contacted and investigated the remaining members of Company; those we could find, anyway. There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and neither Enishi nor Am have been contacted by anyone suspicious, at least if we trust their word.”  
Chrono nodded slightly, but stayed silent.  
It didn't feel like enough. He wanted—he wanted to do something _now_ , to fight whatever was holding Ibuki in its grasp. Who knew what could happen while they waited.  
No. If he was honest, it wasn't sense that hurried him. It was his own impatience. His own powerlessness.  
Oblivious to his raging emotions, Ibuki lay peacefully on his bed. His face, in a cruel stroke of irony, looked more relaxed and rested than Chrono had ever seen him.  
It wasn't _fair_.  
“… is there nothing we can do right now?” he finally breathed out, admitting to his own weakness.  
Mamoru looked at him with kind, sympathetic eyes.  
“I understand how you feel. But for now… I do think that there isn't much to do except keep an eye on him.”  
Chrono bit his lip. He knew, and yet…  
Yet, he couldn't make himself let go of Ibuki's hand.  
“… I do think he would be grateful for your presence,” Mamoru said gently. “I stayed with him during the day, but if you'd be so kind as to stay with him for a while…”  
It was just like Mamoru, to word it like a request, as if he wasn't the one doing Chrono a favour. He knew full well that Chrono would have to tear himself away from his side if he had to leave.  
“… I will. Please get some rest too.”

Mamoru left, and he was alone. Alone with Ibuki's sleeping body and his hand still held possessively.  
Chrono sat on a chair next to the bed. In sleep, Ibuki looked much younger. Not for the first time, Chrono found himself wondering what he would look like with his hair cut or tied away; the white curtain had always framed his face as far as he could remember, and while it was inseparable from him in his mind, seeing it spread on the pillows made it clear how much it usually hardened his face. How much it covered him, just like his coat, in an armour of his own making.  
It was infinitely pretty, and Chrono had wanted to touch it more than once, but sometimes he had wished that he could see his face without it.  
And his face with less of it was… younger. Less guarded. Maybe it was the combination of sleep and the different fall of his front strands, but that was the image that struck him.  
He looked so _vulnerable_ , and Chrono wanted to break something out of fear and frustration.  
But there was no one to go fight, no one to take that feral, protective anger on. Last time, Ryuzu had been right there, and Ibuki himself had urged him to go on despite his desire to stay with him. But now, there was no target that they had found. And no reason to think that defeating them would bring Ibuki back to normal.  
All he could do was sit, and watch over him, and pray. Pray for Ibuki's mind, wherever it was, to be safe. Pray for him to return to him.  
Pray for a chance to hold him in his arms when he was _not_ dying, for once.

Going to school the next day was a nightmare. He had never been very good at focusing, but there was struggling with focus and struggling with the constant urge to bolt or snap at someone. And because he'd made some tangible efforts over the last year and half, most teachers had started expecting more from him.  
It was torture.  
Thankfully, Shion, Tokoha and Kumi knew what was going on; over the course of the day, he noticed them drawing the teachers' attention on purpose. It didn't fix everything, but it made it much easier to control his temper at least, and for that he was infinitely grateful.  
Their worried, sympathetic glances, however, stung. He knew it wasn't pity. He knew them better than that, and _they_ knew him better than that; sympathy was different from pity, and came because they knew him well and cared about him. But in his own guilt-misshapen mind, he couldn't help but experience their concern as a confirmation of his own failure. They were pitying his foolishness, his self-loathing whispered. How sad he was, this boy who could never talk about his feelings, who could never protect people when it mattered. How unfortunate that his isolation would cause people he cared about to get hurt.  
It was bullshit, and he knew it, but he couldn't completely brush the feeling away, and it just frustrated him even more.  
When the last bell rung, Tokoha made a beeline for a broom before he could react.  
“Go see him,” she told him firmly as he stood, hesitating. “You can take my shift another time.”  
“I…”  
“Go.” She glared at him, daring him to disagree. “He probably needs you as much as you need him. I can sweep a few papers.”  
The knot in his stomach came undone. His friends knew him too well.  
“Keep me posted if they come up with anything,” Shion added, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If he needs any procedures that are out of the ordinary, I can ask my family to help take care of it.”  
“Shion—”  
Shion tsk'd and smiled.  
“He helped investigate and bring us back after Company took over. We owe him too. Don't sweat it.”  
“… thank you,” he murmured. “I… I'll keep you posted.”

When he reached the hospital, Christopher Lo was already there, along with Chief Suzugamori and his right-hand man. Mamoru was also there, standing tense next to the wall with his arms crossed, as they fiddled with a machine that was linked to Ibuki through a set of electrodes on his head.  
“What's going on?” he asked quietly, sliding in next to Mamoru to avoid disturbing the others.  
“They're trying to see if part of him is awake,” he answered.  
“Huh?”  
“The mundane tests they did this morning showed that his brain isn't reacting the way it normally would for a coma or normal sleep. It's almost as if he was awake, except…”  
“… except he's definitely not.”  
Mamoru nodded.  
“Chris suggested measuring his stride force. Maybe we'll get a hint there.”  
Chrono leaned back against the wall, trying his best not to get into anyone's way. Honestly, he wanted to go to him and take his hand again, but who knew if it could have messed up their results.  
And besides, showing those feelings in front of Mamoru was one thing. Showing them to three people who barely brushed 'acquaintance' status was another.  
After a few more minutes, Christopher sighed and leaned back in his seat.  
“Well… at least we know something is definitely off.”  
“What did you find out?” Mamoru asked.  
“Nothing conclusive—but one thing's for sure, he's not actually asleep. Or if he is, his dreams aren't normal. His Stride Force levels are way too high. It's like he's been in the climax of an intense fight for hours.”  
“Hmmm…” Tetsu Shinjou said.  
Chief Suzugamori looked back up at him from where he had been, leaning with his elbows propped on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.  
“Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Tetsu?”  
“Possibly. Lo, do you think he could be stuck in an image?”  
“… as if with psyqualia?”  
“Yes,” Suzugamori said, unusually serious. “The same way we can lock someone in an image until we release them. What if someone had done this and left him there?”  
“… I suppose that's theoretically possible, but I'd have no idea how to do it. Or how to undo it, for that matter.”  
Suzugamori straightened, sighing dramatically.  
“Ibu-kki. Always getting yourself involved with the mind players, huh? How does he do it?”  
“Could you reach him through Psyqualia?” Shinjou asked.  
“It's true you _are_ the strongest of us along with Aichi,” Christopher pointed out.  
“… I don't think so,” Suzugamori sighed, almost pouting. “If I could fight him, maybe. If he was awake and mind controlled, maybe I could do something. But even then, we'd run the risk of it being transmissible.”  
Shinjou and Christopher immediately winced.  
“… what about from the other side?”  
They all turned to stare at him. He tried his best not to fluster.  
“I mean—if he's in an image, maybe someone from _Cray_ could reach him through it? Since we can't.”  
They stared at him in silence.  
“… as expected of the Singularity,” Christopher finally said, eyeing him appraisingly. “Yes, it might be possible, but unfortunately our ability to communicate directly with Cray is sorely limited. I don't think that's anything we could do on the short term.”  
Chrono looked down. He didn't want to think about anything having to move into 'long term' territory.  
“… does he still have his deck at least?” he asked. “Or did they take it away?”  
“It was next to him when he was found,” Mamoru answered. “The man who found him picked them up. I checked; nothing's missing. Which surprised me.”  
“Whoever this is must be sure of their power, if they consider Messiah a negligible player,” Suzugamori said. “Or maybe they thought they would react if the deck was taken away from him? Aside from targeting him, they mostly seem to have been focusing on stealth.”  
“Who knows,” Christopher sighed. “At any rate, he doesn't seem to be in immediate danger… but I worry about his mind if he stays locked in too long. If that's indeed what's going on.” He frowned for a moment, lips pursed slightly. “… I'm going to contact Aichi. He's the one who's had most contact with Messiah aside from Ibuki. Maybe he'll have a bright idea.”

Half an hour later, they were gone, and Mamoru with them, with a promise that he would come back once he'd gotten Christopher to his accomodation. Once more, Chrono was left alone, with a softly breathing but still unwakeable Ibuki.  
He walked closer, sad and nervous. No matter how long he stared at him, Ibuki didn't move, didn't change, still seemingly peacefully asleep. And yet, if they were right, he wasn't at peace at all.  
But then again, who knew? Maybe his image was peaceful.  
Maybe he was finally experiencing what all of them had gone through when the Stride Gate had opened. Maybe he was finally getting to see his own perfect world.  
Maybe it was better than what was waiting for him in reality.  
He had always known, almost from the start, that there were deep wounds in Ibuki's heart. It was obvious, in the way he fought, in the way he reacted to others, in his clumsy and fearful attempts to bond with them. His courage came from facing constant fear, that much he was sure of.  
But maybe he was tired of facing it. Maybe the image in his imagination was finally freeing him from those wounds.  
He didn't want to think about it. He'd fought so hard for everyone, including Ibuki, to get a chance to build their own future in reality. But if Ibuki hated it so much…  
_You're being stupid,_ his more rational mind interjected, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. _This is just a chain of maybes and what-ifs. You don't even know if that's what's happening to him._  
Sighing, he took back his spot next to Ibuki's bed, dragging the discarded chair close.  
His deck was on his bedside table; Mamoru had left it with them as he left. On impulse, Chrono reached for it, leafing through it absently.  
Messiah had always given him a strange feeling. Where most people he knew saw their avatars as equals, often very similar people fighting towards a common goal, Messiah felt different. As if they were watching over Ibuki rather than strictly fighting at his side. Whenever he'd fought them, they had almost… welcomed him. Challenged him. Inviting him into the fight, into the world they and Ibuki shared.  
Somehow, it felt like that now. Something almost seemed to call him as he glanced from one card to another.  
Did Messiah know? Were they trying to reach Ibuki, right now, and finding only him instead? He didn't know exactly what kind of relationship they had, but it had always been obvious to him that they were close in some way.  
It didn't feel right to keep them apart. If Messiah could reach him in some way, then…  
He put the deck back together, Alter Ego Messiah on top, and opened Ibuki's hand so he could tuck the deck in.  
The world spun. In a fraction of second, it felt like he wasn't quite himself; he could feel, _know_ things he had never experienced, and when the feeling left, leaving him panting and shaking lightly, there were things in his mind that weren't there before.  
Ibuki, small and scared, locked deep inside his own mind. Messiah's inability to reach him through the barriers of emotion he had erected for himself. Messiah's own existence, on Cray, watching over many, watching over Ibuki himself, a child who was left behind.  
And a path, fragile and uncertain, to the core of Ibuki's heart, that he could try to take, if he was willing to face the risks.  
He shook, keeping his grip on Ibuki's hand and the deck in it painfully tight.  
Could he? He didn't care about the risks, but could someone like him actually reach Ibuki's heart? Could he actually tread through in that image of his, and not… not make things worse somehow, not damage him just by his presence? And the process itself seemed so surreal, but the way the knowledge sat in his mind was secure and immutable. Messiah, at least, was certain. To them, it was a fact.  
“… why me?” he murmured. “Wouldn't his old friends be better at this?”  
His head swam again, and he knew. Because Ibuki might have learned to trust others to help him in his goals, but Chrono was still the only person that he truly trusted to see him defenseless. The one his heart may, if they were lucky, open for.  
And the one whose own feelings may bring solace and warmth, in a space where he would not be able to lie. There would be no faking, no overstating of friendship or affection. Only raw intent and feelings could make any difference, in a world controlled by Ibuki's mind.  
He swallowed. There were risks. He could end up stuck. He could mess up and have Ibuki's mind brand him as an intruder and fight back, and hurt him, or worse. He could make the situation worse.  
But if he waited too long, Ibuki would eventually stop fighting at all. And he would never accept that.  
With his free hand, he reached for his phone and typed a hasty **gonna try something, wish me luck** in his group chat with Shion and Tokoha. At least if something went wrong, they would know it was his own fault and not something Ibuki did just by existing. He wasn't a danger to others, and they needed to know that. And then, just in case, he added, **don't make them try to stop me, it'll be more dangerous** , and turned off his screen before he could see any potential replies.  
He grit his teeth.  
“I'm ready.”

He never felt himself lose consciousness. It was as if he had simply opened his eyes, even though he had never closed them. They opened, and the world around him was gone.  
Instead, all around, all he could see was stars.  
He looked up. Above him, an infinity stretched, like a night sky but infinitely darker and yet sharply clearer. Stars shone in every direction, like a million little beacons, warmth that he couldn't reach but that still warmed his heart. And above, stretching like a brush stroke across the sky, a cloud of stars so thick he could barely see through them.  
_Space_ , he understood deep inside, with no help from Messiah this time. _It's not the sky. It's space._  
He turned to get a better look, and felt his feet tread through what felt like a thin layer of water. He looked down. And repressed the urge to gag.  
The sky that was reflected in the water wasn't this empty, star-lit space. It was red, red dripping with blacks and browns like thick old blood. And above him, in the reflection, a giant red planet, taking over the entire sky, looming so close he could almost have touched it.  
“This is Brandt.”  
He turned, instictively falling into a battle stance, ready to jump. The young, monotonous voice belonged to a boy with white hair and black and white clothes, who stood straight on the blood-coloured water.  
“Who are you?”  
He seemed familiar, but…  
“I am Cosmo Wreath.”  
Of course. How many times had he seen him in their fights. The small boy and his large shield, glowing red like a small flower in the night.  
A small lizard-like creature poked its head from behind Cosmo Wreath's legs and came to sniff at him, almost like a dog. Tentatively, he extended his hand for it to inspect it, never taking his eyes off Cosmo Wreath.  
“I am the one who protects… therefore, I am able to enter, although only part of the way. Master Messiah thought that you would understand my words more easily than their mind's voice.”  
The creature nuzzled at his hand. He pet it, wishing he could show the same affection to the world around him.  
“So what, are you here to guide me?”  
“You have to find your own path. But there are things that I can explain. Maybe it will help you.”  
“… thanks.” It was better than nothing. “… what's Brandt?”  
“The planet that you can see in our reflection. It once tried to consume and destroy Cray, and Earth along with it.”  
“So why is it here in his mind?” He paused, looking down at it again and shuddering. If he trusted the reflection, it was just about to crush him. “Why is it so _big_?”  
“I cannot tell you. You may find out on your own, or he may tell you himself. But it would be dangerous to talk about it here. And it is important not to betray his trust. Master Messiah does not want to reveal information that he has hidden himself.”  
“… that makes sense I guess.”  
“But planet Brandt… holds a specific meaning to him. That much is important to understand.”  
“I can tell,” he said, darkly. The red planet's hold felt suffocating. No matter how beautiful the sky above him was, the bloody, ominous reflection made it feel fake and ephemeral. As if any moment, it would wink and disappear, and leave only red.  
Was that how he felt? Or was it a metaphor for something else? Or maybe it didn't mean anything like that at all. He wasn't good at symbolism, and he didn't know how this space in Ibuki's mind worked. For all he knew, it was just projecting something he saw somewhere else.  
“… so how do I get to him?” He paused. “I mean—this is already _him_ , I think, but—how do I reach…” _the part of his consciousness that I can actually talk to._  
“You will have to find him.”  
“That's not very helpful,” he sighed, but it wasn't Cosmo Wreath he was complaining about. He _had_ warned him that he would need to find the path for himself.  
He looked around. Everywhere, the sky seemed the same, stretching endlessly towards the horizon. Nothing seemed to indicate a difference between one side or the other, nothing except—  
If he faced one particular way, the stars seemed to dim a little. As if he would have walked into the darkest night before dawn, when the stars faded before the sun could bring any real light.  
Maybe it wasn't positive progress, but it felt like progress nonetheless. He stepped in that direction and started to walk.

They moved on in silence. Cosmo Wreath had immediately caught up to him, walking at his side a breath behind him, his little friend running around Chrono's feet just far enough that it wouldn't trip him. If he looked around him, nothing ever seemed to change, but the sky definitely felt darker now.  
Underneath him, planet Brandt's reflection seemed as close as ever.  
“It feels like it should fall any moment, but it's just _there_ ,” he hissed. “Talk about unnerving.”  
And as the sky's light started to fade, he caught the first glimpses of silhouettes in the shadows.  
His breath hitched. It was nothing he could see if he looked directly, but if he focused on his peripheral vision, there they were, moving, stalking. He could not make out any details from where he was, but the aura they gave was threatening, cruel. Both cold and predatory.  
He shivered.  
“There's someone in the shadows,” he quietly told Cosmo Wreath. “Or something.”  
“Yes,” the boy said simply. “Normally, they come closer. They seem to be unable to approach you.”  
“Huh?”  
“Alone, I would have had to defend myself.”  
He nodded.  
“Is that why this one's here?” he asked, nodding at the lizard-like creature.  
“No, he is…” a pause, and something that almost sounded like emotion, “… a friend.”  
Despite his tension and stress, Chrono smiled a little.  
“… that's good.”  
Suddenly, the darkness seemed to flash.  
Like a strobe, but pulsing darkness instead of light. The world seemed to flicker, wrapped in a sheet of darkness that felt thick and almost comforting. It disappeared as quickly as it had come, but its soft imprint remained on his back, and he turned back to face its source, in the direction he'd been going in the first place.  
Ibuki was there. He knew it viscerally. That darkness felt the same way his soft, quiet smiles did. Something gentle and tired and hopeful but always a little sad.  
“Let's go,” he said.  
As he walked into the darkness, his body slowly started to glow.

They walked. The sky grew dark, every star gone. Under his feet, Brandt was as red as ever; in the darkness, the ripples made him feel like he was walking through a layer of slightly glowing blood.  
Despite the darkness and the threat of creatures crawling in the shadows, Chrono felt strangely at peace. This dark, empty space felt familiar, almost safe. He walked in quiet hope, in warmth, the main feeling in his stomach a gentle, secure determination.  
He would get to him. This was his path, the path he should have followed a long time ago already. He had just been too scared, too hesitant to tread it. But now… now he was finally heading where he was meant to be.  
Now he was with him, and he would tear whatever was holding him down with his bare hands if he had to.  
It was… a softly satisfying feeling.  
And then the darkness was complete. The only thing he could still see was the inch of red hazy glow emanating from the ground.  
“Are you still here?” he asked, turning.  
“I am.”  
Cosmo Wreath stepped forward, illuminated by Chrono's glow. His lizard-like friend looked around uneasily, and jumped up on Chrono's shoulder.  
“It feels like he's close, but…”  
He bit his lip. Somehow, it didn't feel like walking further would help any. And yet, Ibuki was nowhere to be seen.  
“This place reacts to your thoughts and feelings,” Cosmo Wreath reminded him. “And to his.”  
That was true. But then, what was he doing wrong? If he was searching for him, shouldn't he have found him…  
He paused. All this time, he had been searching for where Ibuki _was_. But the reason he'd come was…  
He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, and reached into his heart, to grasp the yearning that had been burning inside him for so long, to let it grow and bloom and overtake him, let himself experience it to the fullest, in his entire body, even if it made him breathless, even if it made his eyes sting.  
_I want to see you. I want to meet you. I want to get to know who you really are. I want…_  
Something in his chest hitched. He gasped, and opened his eyes, and forgot to breathe altogether.  
Just in front of him, close enough to touch, a sphere floated in the darkness, perpetually moving and swirling, its surface forming and changing with what, Chrono knew deep inside his bones, was pure emotion.  
Kindness. Fear. A small thread of anger. Pure, unadulterated yearning and excitement. Crushing loneliness. Pain, overwhelming. Devotion so strong it almost blinded him. Grim determination.  
He choked.  
“Ibuki…”  
He took a step forward. Cosmo Wreath's friend hopped down from his shoulder; he barely felt it.  
“It's _him_ ,” he choked out, suffocated with emotion. Was he even talking to them anymore, or to himself? He didn't know.  
He walked closer still, until he could feel Ibuki's warmth radiating on his face.  
“ _Ibuki!_ ”  
His head swam. This was everything about Ibuki that he had sensed in all his fights, all his time with him, but bared and raw, so pure and delicate that it felt like one wrong movement could destroy it, erase him. Being so close, seeing him so open and vulnerable, gave him vertigo. He wanted… he wanted…  
He wanted to touch, to hold, to experience all of it, to take in all his feelings, to keep them _safe_ , to feel them again and again, feeding a hunger he knew would never quite be sated.  
He brought his hand up, delicately. His palm and fingers connected with the shifting layer of emotion, and it fled a little before coming back to touch him back, brush against him.  
He was crying.  
It was so much, _too_ much, too much for his heart to contain, and yet it was everything he wanted. He could have stroked it and cried forever, just wrapped himself in _Ibuki_ and never attempted to move.  
It was so beautiful and delicate that he had never felt this humbled in his life, even as he watched Cray through the Stride Gate's dissipating light.  
“There you are,” he murmured, resting his forehead. “There you are.”  
He felt at peace.  
“I cannot go further.”  
He turned, twisting his head but keeping his hands pressed to Ibuki's core. Cosmo Wreath was staring at him, his friend in his arms.  
“His conscious mind is being held inside,” he explained. “But I cannot come close or enter. You may have a chance.”  
“… if I go in, will you be safe?”  
“Yes. Master Messiah will withdraw my projected consciousness. But you will also be beyond their reach. If you go in, you will be alone.”  
“… that's fine. I was prepared for that when I came.” He stroked his fingers against the swirling feelings, and felt them brush against his skin in response.  
“Then, we wish you good luck. And thank you, Chrono Shindou.”  
“Huh?”  
“Thank you, for caring for him. He does not yet know it, but he is an important part of our family.”  
Chrono smiled a little.  
“… I feel you. Thank you too. For bringing me here.” He breathed in, letting his tears run freely, openly. “I'll bring him back. I promise.”  
Cosmo Wreath nodded. Chrono turned back to Ibuki, breathing in and out deeply, quietly.  
He had to reach him. Whatever his mind was going through, he had to reach him first if he wanted to bring him back. But Ibuki would have to let him.  
And that was what he was most scared of, Chrono thought. To lose those he cared about, or to let them in too much, to show them too much. To let them see what he himself held in contempt.  
But the Kouji Ibuki he knew was also an amazingly brave person, who had always faced his fears when it was important. Who had walked into terrifying fights for his sake.  
He trusted his courage.  
“Ibuki,” he murmured gently, lovingly, “please let me in.”  
His hand went through.  
He gasped. Where the sphere had been almost solid, like the swirling emotions themselves had substance, now his hand was going through effortlessly, the currents brushing around his wrist. And if he tried to push further, his arm sunk in. He couldn't feel or see anything on the other side, but he had no doubt that if he tried to walk forward, he would go through.  
“Thank you,” he said, smiling.  
He closed his eyes and took a step forward.

When he opened them again, he was once more standing in empty space. But now, everything was white.  
Or not quite everything. Behind him, hovering oppressively enough that he turned to look at it, a dark cloud rose from the ground, rotting with such negative emotion that Chrono choked. Loneliness. Self-hate. Betrayal. Emptiness. Anger. Despair.  
And when he turned again, on the ground, a child was sitting. A child with thin white hair, sitting with his face hidden in his hugged knees.  
Chrono's heart clenched. Carefully, he walked towards the child, this smaller, younger Ibuki that he had never met, and crouched next to him, facing him.  
“Hey,” he called, as gently as he could.  
Ibuki lifted his head just a little, baring only his large red eyes, staring at him tearfully.  
“Who are you?”  
_Ah._  
“… my name is Chrono. I'm a friend.”  
Ibuki's eyes narrowed in distrust.  
“I don't have friends.”  
It was said with such casual, resigned, matter of fact acceptance that Chrono almost felt ten again. Alone and orphaned and convinced that the only person who cared for him would be better off if he was dead.  
“… maybe not right now. But you'll make some, I promise. When you're ready to try again, people will answer.”  
Ibuki's eyes fell away. Sad. Hesitant. But not rejecting.  
“… do you mind if I sit?”  
Ibuki looked at him again for a second, then shook his head silently. Chrono sat, as close to him as he could without violating his space or accidentally touching him.  
They sat in silence. Ibuki had brought his face back to his knees, as if waiting for a storm to stop. He didn't move, didn't cry, altough the state of his eyes had told Chrono that he had earlier. He was just waiting.  
So Chrono waited too. He had time.  
“… what are you doing here?” Ibuki eventually asked.  
“I was looking for you. What about you?”  
The question seemed to take him by surprise. He turned his head slightly, looking at him from under his bangs.  
And then his eyes flicked to the darkness, before looking down.  
“… he's calling me,” he said quietly. “But I don't want to go.”  
_He?_  
Chrono looked up towards the dark fog. At first, he saw nothing. And then, as he squinted at the darkness…  
A curtain of long white hair.  
A strict coat.  
A back always held straight.  
He gasped. The figure was faint, almost made of mist, but…  
“I don't want to go!” Ibuki said again, pleadingly.  
And then it all made sense.  
_Oh no… no no no please no…_  
He stared at the figure of the Ibuki he knew, on the other side of the darkness.  
“So that's why you couldn't come out,” he breathed.  
“I'm not going anywhere,” Ibuki said stubbornly, panic stitching the edges of his voice. “There's nothing _out_ there! They all hate me anyway. I tried so hard but they all hate me. I just wanted to be their friend. Even… even Miwa…”  
Chrono dug his nails into his hands. He wanted to hug him so badly.  
“I don't hate you,” he said quietly.  
Ibuki broke out of his train of thought with a gasp, and stared at him.  
“Huh?”  
“I don't hate you. I mean, I only know the you over there, but… I like him. He's important to me. He's important to a lot of people.” He tried to face him head-on, and he knew his smile was sad, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to lie. He couldn't simplify the truth. He would have to do this with his honest feelings. “Maybe that's not what you want to hear. But—you know, I met you too now, and I don't think you're a bad person either. I think I understand both of you better now.”  
Ibuki's eyes fell away.  
“What do you know? You don't know me?”  
“Others hurt you. And instead of hurting them back, you're here. Sad, not angry. You're a kind person. That's what I think, at least.”  
Ibuki blushed a little, his hold on his legs tightening. But at the same time, something in him hardened.  
“And if I did? If I hurt them back? If I wanted to hurt them back?”  
“… then I'd understand.” Ibuki squinted at him, but he continued. “I don't think it's the right thing to _do_ , but I understand wanting to.” He paused. “You know… one time, someone hurt a person who's very precious to me. And for a moment…” He swallowed. “… for a moment, I wanted to kill them.”  
Ibuki stared.  
“… I didn't. In the end… there was something much more important than revenge. And the one who did it… they were hurt too. I didn't want to bring more hurt and hate.” He smiled slightly. “But for a moment, I really wanted to. I think we all feel like that, sometimes. It doesn't make you a bad person.”  
Ibuki watched him, hope and wariness fighting each other on his face. He didn't quite trust him. But that was understandable. He had only just shown up.  
To this Ibuki, he was just a stranger. He would just have to be the best stranger he could.  
Finally, Ibuki looked up at the dark fog again. And then down.  
“… I don't want to become him,” he said quietly. “I know there's an exit on the other side, I've seen it, but… I hate him. I don't want to be him. I want to stay like this.”  
“… hate? Why do you hate him?”  
“He's mean!” Ibuki exclaimed. “He's mean and cold and he hurts those he cares about! He got all cold and bitter and did all this bad stuff and he didn't even actually get stronger! I was supposed to become strong! If I can't… if I can't, then what's the _point_?”  
It hurt.  
“I don't think that's true.”  
He knew why he must feel like that, but it still hurt.  
“… the Ibuki I know,” he continued quietly, “is a kind person. He's guarded, yeah. He doesn't open up to people easily. That's why he seems cold. But he cares about people. He always tries to take everything on his own shoulders, rather than let people get hurt.” Ibuki stared at him, but he kept going, propelled by his feelings. Finally, he could actually voice them. “I don't know what exactly happened to him. But it hasn't stopped him from caring. And he did become strong.” He paused. “No. I think you've always been strong. But you had to find that strength in you. … I think he doesn't quite believe in it yet. But I can see it. He's gone through so much and kept going. And he's brave. He's brave, because there's a lot that scares him, but he keeps going anyway. Not just with fights!” He let his fondness slip into a soft smile. “You're scared of people, right? Well, he's still awkward too, and guarded, but… he's let people in anyway. He let _me_ in.” He took a second to steady himself. “The both of you let me in _just now_. That's brave. That's strength.”  
“… I…”  
Chrono offered his hand. Ibuki stared at it. Then, hesitantly, reached back and took it.  
“That coldness… Maybe that's all you can see when you look at him because we're always gonna judge ourself hardest. And when you don't know him at all, it's easy to be fooled too, but… he's a good person.” He smiled, close to a grin. “And I know him pretty damn well, okay? The good and the bad.”  
“… so what's the bad?” Ibuki asked almost fearfully.  
“He's stubborn as hell and he doesn't know when to ask for help. But I can't actually complain about that,” he added with a side grin, “because I'm just like that too. So we're even.”  
Ibuki looked away. But Chrono's words seemed to have reached him, at least: if anything, he just looked flustered.  
“Don't be ashamed of who you've become,” Chrono said gently. “He's done great things and helped protect a lot of people. And he hasn't given up. That's something to be proud of.”  
“… I don't know if I can do that.”  
The admittance came quiet and small, like a last layer of honesty that was finally bared.  
And the reality of it tore at Chrono's heart.  
Knowing what was to come, could he blame him for doubting he could make it? For fearing the pain? For not knowing if he could be strong enough to withstand it?  
And yet… all that pain, all those things that had happened… they were already there. Nothing could change the past. All he could do was regain his memories, or stay locked in forever.  
But going through them again… how could he demand something like that of him?  
He stayed silent for a while, just staring at their linked hands, and then squeezed a little.  
“… I know you can do it. I believe in you. But… I'm not going to force you. If you can't… I'll wait here with you.”  
Ibuki's head shot up.  
“Huh?”  
“… a while ago, I had a big decision to make. I could let someone decide what was best for me, what he thought I really wanted… or I could take the risk of failing, and make my own choices. I fought… for the right to make my own choice. So it really wouldn't be right for me to take that choice away from you now.”  
Ibuki looked away, hesitating. But his hand stayed in Chrono's own.  
“I'm still going to tell you what I think, because I think it's important. But the choice is yours. Do you understand that?”  
“… do you really mean that? What are you gonna do if I don't…”  
He trailed off. Chrono swallowed his pain and fear.  
“… then I'll wait. I'll wait for you to be ready. Here or outside. I won't give up on hoping. But I won't force you against your will.” He took a shaky breath. “I promise.”  
Ibuki still didn't look at him. But after a moment, he nodded.  
Chrono breathed in, trying his best to calm himself. His heart kept hammering at his ears, and he felt dizzy, but that must have been nothing compared to what Ibuki himself felt.  
“… I know it's scary,” he said quietly. “There's a lot of scary things ahead. But once you make it through…” He smiled softly. “There's people waiting for you on the other side. Friends. You mentioned Miwa earlier—well he's still there. He and Kai are your friends—they've been your friends for years, actually.”  
“Kai too?”  
“Yeah. I don't know them very well, that Kai guy's a bit of an enigma to me, but… He's there. And not just them. You've made friends in other places too. Even people who thought you were their enemy at first. They got to know you, and they realised what you're really like, and now you're friends.” He glanced at Ibuki's face. He was looking away, but clearly listening. “You know, when you collapsed, a lot of people hurried to get to your side. Someone _took a plane_ to come check on you. And _my_ friends offered to take my shifts because they knew I'd want to be there. They knew how important it was.”  
Subtly, Ibuki's hand tightened. Chrono smiled, his breath shaking a little.  
“And it's not just that. There's a whole life ahead of you, you know. New things to discover. New places to go to. Learning how to make and flip okonomiyaki. Fights! Fights that make you excited and make you meet new people and share with them! You have this really cool car, too. There's _so many things_.”  
Ibuki bit his lip. There was some determination there, but also a lot of doubt, and his eyes were tearful again. Chrono hesitated, then squeezed his hand and continued, more gently.  
“There's a lot waiting for you on the other side. I… I can't promise you'll find it worth it, but… I hope you will. I think you will. And I promise I'll do everything I can to make it worth it. So… don't you want to find out?”  
“ _I do!_ ”  
It was a desperate cry, and yearning and fear battled within it.  
“I do, but… but I…”  
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tears. Slowly, Chrono brought his other arm up, towards his shoulder, and waited for his eyes to be open again and free of rejection before wrapping his forearm around it.  
Ibuki sobbed, and let go of his hand to throw himself into his arms in earnest.  
“I'm scared,” he sobbed into Chrono's shoulder.  
Chrono held him tight, and pet the back of his head with his fingers.  
“I know… I know.”  
“I'm tired… I'm so tired…”  
It really was him, even if he didn't remember.  
“… I know.” He let his face rest against Ibuki's hair. “But that's why you gotta rely on us sometimes too, you know?”  
Ibuki buried his face deeper into his shoulder.  
“You're not alone,” Chrono told him, stroking his hair. “We're all waiting for you to wake up. This is something only you can do, but after that… whatever comes after, we'll face it _together_. I'll be there. I promise. You don't have to be alone anymore.”  
Ibuki's hands tightened in his shirt. Chrono stayed silent and let him think, the slow movements of his fingers his only input.  
Finally, although his face stayed pressed to Chrono's shoulder, Ibuki's back straightened.  
“If… If I… will you stay with me?”  
“I'll stay. I'll watch over you and I'll wait for you to come out. Okay?”  
Silently, Ibuki nodded against him.

He stood. Chrono released him, not moving from where he was, but looking up at him, trying his best to smile, as reassuringly as he could.  
He was proud, and he hoped his face showed it.  
“… thank you, Chrono,” he said, nodding with fearful but solemn determination. “I think I understand now.”  
Chrono's smile grew with fond, honest warmth.  
“You're welcome.”  
Ibuki looked at him again, nodded, and turned, walking towards the fog.  
Chrono expected him to stop and steel himself, but he clenched his fists, hunched his shoulders, and all but ran in, head first.  
As soon as he was fully in, he doubled over, holding his head. Chrono's breath caught, but he made himself stay where he was. Who knew what could happen if he stepped in. And besides… he'd promised to stay and watch. To be witness to it. He wasn't going to break his promise, no matter how much it hurt.  
Whatever he felt, Ibuki had to have it worse. He refused to hide from it when Ibuki was facing it.  
Slowly, Ibuki raised his head and straightened again, taking another shaky step.  
And as he walked, he grew. His small body stretched, in the thin and fragile and awkward way of a teenage body growing on too little food and too much stress. One or two of his steps limped, but he kept going, and soon he was standing taller, straighter. His hair grew longer, reaching his shoulders, then his back. Chrono smiled tentatively. He could do it. He was strong and brave, and the moment he came out, Chrono would be there to support him.  
And then he stopped, and Chrono's heart along with him.  
Something was wrong. His entire body language, that had been starting to gather some confidence, even if it was a cold and shaky one, dissolved within seconds, and he crumbled to a crouch, holding his ears, shaking his head. His mouth was open as if screaming, and although no sound came through the fog, Chrono felt the cry resonate through his entire body. Pain, and betrayal, and helplessness, so much helplessness, and as he finally raised his head again, still crouched, eyes wild and teeth clenched, it turned into rage. Into hate.  
Chrono hadn't even felt himself getting to his feet until he found himself running, stopping just a breath away from the fog.  
“Ibuki… Ibuki!”  
Ibuki didn't hear him. He shook, looking up from his crouch, and when he finally stood, slowly unfolding himself almost mechanically, his eyes shone in cold, mad anger, his face bathed in the same red glow that had suffocated the reflection of his world.  
Chrono sobbed.  
“You can do it,” he whispered, putting every scrap of feeling he could into it. “You can do it… you got through, I know you got through…”  
All this time, he'd suspected something had happened. But to see such pain and anger on his face knocked the air out of him.  
He wanted… he wanted…  
He bit his lip, and made himself stay where he was, watching through his tears.  
_And if I did? If I wanted to hurt them back?_  
Now, he understood. Ibuki had known all along what walking towards his future would really mean.  
Ibuki kept walking, wrapped in destructive rage. The more he walked, the more his angry steps became mechanical, almost inhuman, like a robot or a puppet on strings. Chrono watched, his teeth clenched, praying.  
Ibuki launched himself forward. He seemed completely consumed, his entire body covered in dying red light, striking his now-black clothes in a sickening glow. And then, suddenly, he stopped. Looked up, in rage and confusion and maybe a bit of wonder, as a different light shone on his face, clear and soft. And collapsed on the ground. Unconscious. Unmoving.  
Someone had cut the strings.  
Chrono waited, his breath harsh. He would get up, he _knew_ he would, he'd gotten up in the past, or Chrono never would have met him, but… but…  
It wasn't fair. No one should ever have to live through that twice. No one should live through that at all.  
Why hadn't there been someone to help him?  
_You can be there this time_ , he told himself, and clung to the thought so fiercely that had it been physical, he would have made his hands bleed. _This time, he won't have to wake up from it alone._  
He waited. Finally, Ibuki's eyes opened.  
He stared at the sky, unmoving. The red glow was gone, but so was the white light; all that remained of it was a glow reflected in his eyes, a distant glimmer in the darkness. Slowly, he stood, and began to follow it.  
The confidence in his steps was gone. But he looked like the Ibuki he knew, now, and not just in the changing colour of his clothes. His face held the masking coldness that Chrono had seen on him so often when they'd just met each other, but he could see in his body his will to step forward, to fight. If not for himself, then for others. He seemed lost, but he was alive. Alive and himself, and moving forward.  
He was so proud of him.  
And as he moved, as his steps took more and more purpose, a new light started to shine on him. Soft and warm, undulating pinks and oranges like a sunset or dawn. Slowly, his hard face softened, genuine light returning to his eyes. No foreign presence, no faraway glimpse, but something real and present and _himself_. His body grew tense with anticipation, different emotions passing through, both positive and negative, but he never faltered, walking forward with determination, with passion. Even when he stumbled, a flash of fear and loss and guilt on his face, he kept walking.  
And finally, he ran, the last couple of steps, tears falling down his face in what looked like relief, happiness.  
And then he was out.  
There was no more fog, no more ghostly figure. Just him, solid, standing tall and grasping something in his hand that he brought to his chest with a sigh.  
Chrono stood, frozen in place, much too scared to walk forward and break the spell somehow, see him collapse again. His breath came slow and short, dizzying as it shallowly brushed his throat. No matter how much he wanted to cry out, his voice wouldn't come.  
Ibuki turned to face him. On his face, the light of dawn shone like never before.

“Chrono.”  
Chrono gasped. Ibuki was smiling, the same soft, warm smile he had given him on that day they had promised to fight together, under a light much like this one. Tears came to his eyes and Ibuki chuckled, extending his hand towards him.  
His legs came to life and he ran, throwing himself at him.  
“I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I didn't know—”  
“Chrono.”  
He fell silent. Ibuki's hand came up, and, to his shock, brushed the side of his face with its fingertips.  
“I knew,” he said simply.  
Chrono nodded.  
“Thank you,” Ibuki said, “for helping me remember. For giving me that courage.” He chuckled. “And no, I don't regret it. I didn't want to stay alone in there. You just gave me the push I needed.” He brushed a lock of hair out of Chrono's face. “… it's easier when you're not alone to do it.”  
Chrono laughed tearfully.  
“Yeah. That was my point, wasn't it?”  
“And you didn't have to yell at me to make it this time,” Ibuki answered with a teasing smile.  
This time, Chrono actually laughed, the last of his tears flowing and drying on his cheeks.  
“I _hope_ I don't have to do _that_ every time. It's tiring.”  
Ibuki smiled. Chrono brushed the fabric of his coat with his fingertips.  
On impulse, they trailed higher, towards his throat, the back of his neck, sliding into the roots of his hair. Ibuki gasped, letting himself be pulled at first, then jerked back slightly when Chrono's face got close.  
Chrono let go of him, scalded with shame.  
“I—I'm sorry—shit, I'd promised myself I wouldn't and—”  
“No,” Ibuki said, half-firm and half nervous. “This… it's not what you think.”  
Chrono stopped, forced himself to calm down so he could look at him.  
“… I'm not sure I'll remember this,” Ibuki explained. “I don't want…” He looked away, blushing slightly. “… please do it in the real world.”  
If Chrono's cheeks had been warm with shame earlier, now they were burning with something else altogether.  
“I… I can do that.”  
“… and don't worry about asking. I'm giving you permission now. So… just do it. Don't let me run away.” He looked down, almost fidgeting. “… if you still want to, that is.”  
Chrono breathed out a short burst of laughter.  
“You have _no idea_ how much I want to.”  
Ibuki's smile, still edged with shyness, widened slightly.  
“Then, shall we?”  
He offered Chrono his hand again. Chrono took it. It was warm, and solid, and unlike the one on his hospital bed had, it squeezed back.  
“So… where's the exit?”  
Ibuki frowned.  
“I thought I felt it somewhere around here…”  
A blinding flash of white light made them blink. When they opened their eyes again, it had carved a shining tear into the fabric of their reality. A path through which they could walk.  
“… I think Messiah's waiting for us,” Chrono said quietly.  
Ibuki blinked.  
“Messiah?”  
“They're the one who helped me in. You should thank them sometime.”  
Ibuki gasped lightly.  
“… I will try.”  
Together, they walked into the blinding void.

Chrono woke up.  
His body felt heavy; he groaned and straightened, pushing himself up with his free hand until he realised that his other one was still clasped in Ibuki's, holding his deck cradled in both of them.  
“Chrono!”  
He blinked and turned. Mamoru bent down to grab his shoulders, press his hand to his forehead, wave a hand in front of his face.  
“Are you all right? Tokoha said not to touch you—what were you _doing_?”  
“I…” He blinked, as his mind pieced his memories together. “Ibuki! Ibuki, is he?”  
“Ibuki?”  
The hand in his tightened. He turned, breath short, and watched Ibuki's eyes slowly blink open.  
“Ibuki!” both he and Mamoru exclaimed in unison.  
Ibuki coughed lightly.  
“Chrono…” his eyes flitted across the room. “… Anjou?”  
“Thank goodness you're safe,” Mamoru sighed, letting go of Chrono to take Ibuki's other hand. “How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?”  
“I… it's hazy.”  
“What did you do exactly?” Mamoru asked, turning towards Chrono.  
“Well—I didn't _do_ much myself—their idea was the right one. Messiah let me in. I just went to pull him out.”  
“Let you in…” He closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. Chrono had a feeling that if circumstances had been different, he would have received a stern Talk. “… I'm glad you're unharmed.”  
“Hibino.”  
They both turned back to Ibuki.  
“Hibino… that's his name, I think. I knew I'd seen him somewhere before… he won a Branch mini-tournament a few weeks ago… A Dark Irregulars user.”  
“Is that the one who attacked you?” Chrono asked.  
Ibuki nodded.  
“He didn't fight… he didn't even touch me… he reached for my face, and…” He winced. “We need to stop him. But we'll have to use actual force, I think. His ability plunges people in emptiness.”  
“I'll call the others,” Mamoru said, letting go of his hand.  
“Please contact Leon Soryuu too,” Ibuki said. “If we need actual manpower…”  
“I will. _You_ rest. Chrono, you _stay in that chair_ too and watch over him. Do you both understand me?”  
He was glaring. It reminded Chrono of Tokoha at her most offended, and he repressed a laugh.  
“Yes sir,” he said brightly.  
Ibuki nodded. Mamoru huffed slightly and left the room, already pulling out his phone.

They watched him leave. After the door closed, they stayed unmoving, in silence, just letting the moment go by like a light, fresh breeze.  
Finally, Ibuki pulled back his hand, looking at his deck.  
“They wanted to get you out,” Chrono said, “but they couldn't go in the whole way, I think. So they talked to me and asked me to go.”  
“I've never heard their voice,” Ibuki murmured.  
“Maybe you need to open yourself to it?” Chrono suggested. “It's, uh. Strange. Takes getting used to. They don't really talk in words.” He smiled. “I think you can do it, though. It might just take time.”  
Ibuki stared at the deck for a few slow breaths, then nodded.  
“Thank you for coming to get me,” he finally said, looking back at Chrono. He handed him the deck, and Chrono carefully put it back on the bedside table, Alter Ego Messiah still on top.  
“Don't mention it,” he said. “Just don't do it again. I had a hell of a time getting to you.” His throat tightened. “And I'd rather not go through all that again.”  
Ibuki stayed silent, but extended his hand again. Chrono took it, squeezing.  
“… I'm just glad you let me in,” he breathed.  
Ibuki smiled. It was warm and bright and full of the same inviting warmth as he had been when he stepped out of the fog and turned towards him. And Chrono, once more, felt his body itch with impulse. He wanted to feel that hair against his fingers, wanted…  
_So… just do it_.  
Head swimming, he bent down, slid his free hand under Ibuki's head, and kissed him, a short, light brush of lips that he immediately repeated with renewed intensity when Ibuki breathed out against him.  
It was both unsettlingly mundane and mind-breakingly magic, a soft shared touch where skin and breath and slight dampness intermingled, a moment of the world imploding out of focus, their answering movements the only thing he could feel, the only thing he could think about.  
And then he pulled back, short of breath even though it had only lasted a few seconds, and what he'd done caught up with him.  
“I—I'm sorry,” he stammered, “I just—I promised—”  
“I remember.”  
He stared.  
“… are you kidding.”  
Ibuki grinned.  
“— _why didn't you tell me!?_ ” he cried out in disbelief, his cheeks burning.  
“I wanted to feel it,” he said, warm and teasing and maybe, just maybe, still a little shy underneath. “To see what it would be like… if you just did it.”  
“I was _so nervous_ , damnit,” he sighed, hiding his face in Ibuki's shoulder.  
“Then you're very good at faking it.”  
Chrono fake-hit him, and pet his hair instead. Despite everything, he felt safe. Safer than he had in a good long while.  
If he could reach for him, if he could have him at his side… then he could fight. He could protect what mattered to him most. And _that_ felt safe, safer than being kept from harm himself.  
“… we'll find him,” he said, straightening. “I won't let him hurt you again.”  
Ibuki's hand squeezed his.  
“I know.” He smiled. “Together?”  
Chrono smiled back.


End file.
